


when the air ran out

by karasunonolibero



Series: tell me you believe in that [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 12:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20706008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karasunonolibero/pseuds/karasunonolibero
Summary: They knew the horde was coming. They heard about the virus’s spread via contaminated water in America, in Russia, across Europe. Then, when businessmen came back from all corners of the globe, having drunk the water, that was it. Tokyo was the first city to dissolve into chaos, and it only worsened from there.~or, Iwaizumi searches for Oikawa in the wake of a zombie outbreak.





	when the air ran out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reveries_passions](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveries_passions/gifts).

> this is dedicated to bella (reveries_passions) and her magnum opus [red hands](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14805035/chapters/34254722), which heavily inspired the first 100 words of this
> 
> so...zombie apocalypse au, anyone? i've never written it before but i had fun with this. this is going to be the first in a four-part series inspired by the poems in [this post](https://humhalleloujah.tumblr.com/post/151632804671/unsends-in-one-universe), so look for the rest of those coming soon! it'll be iwaoi in four different unconnected universes. this one in particular is inspired by the top left.
> 
> the title of the series as well as this work come from [what a feeling by one direction](https://youtu.be/AsZjIKHdlW0)

Iwaizumi hates looking at his hands.

He knows what they look like. He doesn’t need to see them to know they’re dry, the skin around his knuckles bruised and cracked. And they’re red. Red from the cold, red from exertion, red from the blood he’s spilled just to keep himself alive.

And for what, really? For all he knows he could be the last person left in this godforsaken city. In the prefecture. Maybe even the whole country.

But maybe it’s pure stubbornness that keeps him walking on toward Sendai, to see if anyone else somehow made it out alive.

If Oikawa made it out alive.

Iwaizumi had told him to stay with him, but no, the idiot had to take his weekend trip anyway. He’d just giggled and waved and exclaimed that he’d be “perfectly fine, Iwa-chan, such a worrier!”

And now look where it got him. For someone who’s seen so many science-fiction movies, Oikawa really should have known better.

They knew the horde was coming. They heard about the virus’s spread via contaminated water in America, in Russia, across Europe. Then, when businessmen came back from all corners of the globe, having drunk the water, that was it. Tokyo was the first city to dissolve into chaos, and it only worsened from there.

Initially, Iwaizumi thanked his stars that he lived in the country, but the protection of isolation didn’t last long. Matsukawa came back from visiting cousins in Osaka, brought the virus back with him, and succumbed to it days later. The sight of an undead Matsukawa lunging at him, biting and panting, is burned into Iwaizumi’s brain, as is the sickening sound of his skull being bashed in with a heavy pipe.

And then he promptly left town, in search of one person.

“Damnit, Shittykawa, why’d you have to go all the way to Sendai for a pair of fucking volleyball shoes?” he grumbles under his breath, adjusting his pack and plodding on. Oikawa is strong and fast and agile and a fighter—Iwaizumi knows he’s always been good at getting himself out of situations, but this one…he’s not so sure. It’s been over a week until he was able to get out of town, after all, which means in that time Oikawa easily could have been killed, or worse, turned.

Iwaizumi isn’t sure if he’ll be able to kill Oikawa if it came to that. It’s a grim thought, but one that’s well within the realm of possibility. At that point, he might as well just kill himself right after.

Because what’s the point, without Oikawa? His family is gone, friends all turned or dead. He has no one. Oikawa is the last one left.

There’s a rustle in the bushes on the side of the highway, and he freezes. He spots the glint from where the sunlight hits the metal, and jumps to the left just in time to hear the gunshot ring out.

The survivors are hostile and violent, not hesitating to ambush and kill for supplies and bottled water. Alliances like he’s seen in zombie movies are rare and short-lived here. Though he’s chosen to stay alone, sometimes he does wish he had an ally or two, just to make fights a little more fair. He slashes out with his knife and feels it sink into a soft abdomen; the man howls in pain. Iwaizumi lets him fall and spins around just in time to throw a well-placed punch to his other attacker’s jaw. A gun clatters to the asphalt. Iwaizumi picks it up, aims, too practiced for his liking, and pulls the trigger.

And then it’s silent once more, blood soaking the pavement. Iwaizumi goes through the survivors’ bags and finds some ammunition, but nothing else. They really had nothing at all. As he swallows the guilt and walks on, he can see the city skyline rising in the distance, and the pit of dread in his stomach expands like a black hole.

~

Sendai is a ghost town. That’s the only phrase Iwaizumi can think to describe it.

The city is an eerie tableau of a place that was once lively, was once teeming with people and activity and excitement. It’s easy to imagine the cars lining the streets are just regular salarymen stuck in traffic on the way home, and the ajar shop doors are establishments with broken air conditioners trying to get some fresh air into the place.

But the window panes are shattered, cars riddled with dents and bullet holes, and the bleak reality is hard to ignore.

Truth be told, Iwaizumi hadn’t actually given much thought as to _how_ he’d go about finding Oikawa once he arrived in the city. Part of him hadn’t been confident he’d even make it this far alive. But here he is now, picking his way through the abandoned streets, trying not to step on the broken glass or bullet casings. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s here with Oikawa, having been dragged into a shopping trip. He doesn’t dare call out for him and risk alerting any zombies or survivors in the area to his location. If he were Oikawa, where would he go? Where in the city would be a good shelter?

He thinks for a moment, then turns left, keeping a wary eye for attackers on his way to the gymnasium. It’s logical, he thinks. Heavy doors, lots of space, bottled water, high windows. Iwaizumi pushes the door open and winces at the metallic squeaking of the hinges.

There’s a flash of aqua and white and then someone tall jumping at him so quickly he doesn’t have time to react.

“Hey!” Iwaizumi growls as he’s dragged to the floor. The cold touch of metal hits his neck and he throws an elbow backwards. “Get the fuck off of me, I don’t have much!”

His attacker stops short, the knife stilling. “Iwa-chan?”

He’d know that familiar, annoying voice anywhere. Relief floods him at the knowledge Oikawa’s still alive, quickly replaced by irritation.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” is what comes out instead as he wriggles out of Oikawa’s grasp and turns to face him. The smooth skin of his face is marred by a nasty gash on his left cheek, and the circles under his eyes are darker than Iwaizumi’s ever seen them, but—he’s alive. “You just attack everyone who comes through the door?”

“Yes,” Oikawa says, as though that should have been obvious, tucking his knife into a sheath on his hip. “You can never be too sure. I got attacked once because I thought if I gave them a few supplies, they’d leave…”

He looks away, pursing his lips, and Iwaizumi squints as he glances down Oikawa’s body, searching for other injuries. There’s a bandage around his right bicep, and various other scrapes, but nothing life-threatening as far as he can see. “Is your knee okay?”

Oikawa nods. “For now. Luckily, they don’t really go for the knees.”

There’s a pause. Iwaizumi still isn’t sure if he wants to kiss him or punch him. He opts for the latter, socking him in his uninjured arm. “Rude, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whines, rubbing at the spot.

“You just had to go get those damn volleyball shoes, didn’t you? In the middle of a zombie apocalypse? You’re a dumbass.”

“I was fine!” Oikawa insists. “This really isn’t how I thought our reunion was going to go.”

“Shut up,” Iwaizumi tells him, and surges forward to kiss him. Oikawa giggles and loops his arms around his neck.

Later, Oikawa takes him through the gym, pointing out the stockrooms and where he sleeps and where the most defensible areas are. And, of course, where the volleyballs are. Iwaizumi just listens, keeping one ear pricked for intruders. They really should set up a makeshift alarm by the door. Maybe tin cans, if they can find them.

As night falls, Oikawa barricades them into what used to be an office and is now, seemingly, his base. Iwaizumi watches as he drags the heavy desk in front of the door, sealing them in, and then sets out food and water for the both of them. Tarps and blankets cover the floor, along with some balled up sweatshirts for pillows.

“It’s not much, but it’ll have to be enough,” Oikawa says, hopping up to sit on the desk and looking expectantly at Iwaizumi.

“It’s more than enough. Is there a first-aid kit?”

Oikawa bangs his heel against the desk. “That drawer.”

Iwaizumi pushes Oikawa’s leg aside and roots through the drawer for the kit. Clearly it’s been used—where else would Oikawa have gotten the bandage from?—but there’s enough supplies in there for the moment.

“Are you hurt?” Oikawa asks him, nudging him with his foot.

“No, but you are.” Iwaizumi starts tugging at Oikawa’s shirt, pulling it up.

“Iwa-chan! Right now?” Oikawa’s scandalized gasp only makes Iwaizumi roll his eyes and yank his shirt off.

“I’m trying to take care of you, Trashykawa.” A frown creases his brow as he catalogues the various bruises and scrapes littering his torso. None of them are serious, but he knows that when Oikawa knows it’s not bad, he won’t do a damn thing about it. “Because you never take care of yourself.”

“What do you call this, hmm?” Oikawa points to his bandage.

“A start.” Iwaizumi rips open an antiseptic wipe and starts cleaning a cut just above his ribs.

“Ow, that stings, Iwa-chan! Be gentle!”

“Will you stop complaining?”

“Hold my hand, then,” Oikawa demands.

Iwaizumi throws him a look. “How old are you?”

“Please?” Oikawa grins at him, holding out his hand, and Iwaizumi’s never been able to say no to him. So he patches his boyfriend up, with one damn hand, while Oikawa hums to himself and whines about the pain and laughs when Iwaizumi hits a ticklish spot.

Iwaizumi bites back a fond smile. “Do us both a favor and take better care of yourself. What are you gonna do if I die and there’s no one around to patch you up?”

“If you die, then I’m already dead,” Oikawa says evenly, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand in both of his own. “You’re not dying on my watch.”

“Same goes for you. So let’s both just stay alive.”

The truth is, the prospects for long-term survival aren’t fantastic. Sure, he’s got a water filter for when they inevitably deplete the bottled water supply, but who’s the say the virus won’t just adapt or find a new way to spread? Food will run out eventually. Oikawa would probably scream if Iwaizumi suggested trying to hunt, not to mention neither of them had the faintest clue _how_ to. If they make it a year, they’ll be lucky.

Though, actually, Iwaizumi thinks as he lets Oikawa pull him down for a kiss, he’s already pretty lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, thank you for reading! please let me know what you thought in the comments or on tumblr, if you feel so inclined x
> 
> [main blog](http://humhalleloujah.tumblr.com) // [haikyuu!! blog](http://karasunonolibero.tumblr.com)


End file.
